My throat swells shut, blocking words before they have a chance to be uttered. There’s a slack in my jaw and my stomach balls so tightly I’m certain I’m going to be sick.

This is what I wanted.

“Sam, you’re making me worried here,” Jeremiah drawls, his lips pulling into a half-cocked smirk. He’s extra tan today.

I focus on his radiant blue eyes, the only part of his exterior that’s remained the same in the last year.

“You still love me, Sam, don’t you?” Jeremiah rises. “God, I can’t believe I’m asking this question.”

“Of course.” I’m certain I do if only because love isn’t something you can shut off.

He slips the ring into his pocket, before his hands glide into mine, and he threads our fingers together.

“All this champagne and fancy food I’ve been eating lately must be going to my head,” he says with a quiet chuckle. “I don’t like me without you. That guy’s an asshole. That guy thinks he’s hot shit. I can’t do this whole fame thing without you by my side, Samantha. You keep me grounded. You keep me real.”

“So you only want me back because of what I do for you?”

“God, no. No.” Jeremiah takes my face in his hands, leaning down. For a moment, I hold my breath and purse my lips. My lips are still hot and flavored with Beckham’s kiss. He deposits a kiss on my forehead, and I exhale softly. “That came out all wrong, babe. I’m sorry.”

He pulls me in, his fingers tangled in my hair. With my cheek against his chest, I hesitate before wrapping my arms around him. He feels smaller than I remember, and I don’t recognize his new cologne.

“I let my head get a little big,” he said. “That’s all. Forgot my roots for a sec. Had a talk with Mama, and she put things into perspective for me.”

“What’d she say?” I always did like Susannah Crawford. The mother of four boys, she treated me like the cherished daughter she never had.

“She told me I was a damn fool for letting you go, and that if I wasn’t careful, someone else would come along and snatch you right out from under me.” He kisses the top of my head. “It was the thought of you with another man, Sam. It hurt in ways I never could’ve imagined. Probably ‘cause I’d never thought like that before.”

There’s a weight on my chest. I draw in a deep breath but feel no air. My entire body constricts.

“I slept with someone,” I blurt, squeezing my eyes tight. “Twice.”

Jeremiah doesn’t move despite the fact that I fully expect him to push me away. It’s only after a minute that I realize I’m snug in his arms. His desperate squeeze sends an ache to my chest no amount of words can rectify.

We stand in silence. A minute passes. And another. I breathe him in, attempting to wrap myself in his energy, his warm embrace, his familiarity.

I feel nothing.

His hold loosens after a bit, and he sucks in a ragged breath. His eyes are glassy, and he wears the expression of a man falling apart at the seams and trying desperately not to let it show.

Crawford men are raised not to cry.

“It’s okay, Sam.” He pulls his shoulders back. “We weren’t together. It wasn’t cheating. You had every right to do whatever you wanted to do. I’m not going to judge you for anything.”

Really?

Well in that case, I may as well come completely clean. “The last time was a few hours ago.”

I expect him to pull away, like I’m tainted, but he stands firm, his hands capturing mine.

“Who was it?” He breathes harder. “I have to know, Sam.”

“Just some guy I met at a bar last week.”

“That you reconvened with a second time?”

“I’m also working for him. It’s a three week contract.” I wince, though I don’t know why. I don’t feel guilty. I didn’t cheat. And we’re not back together yet, so it doesn’t matter that I’m still working for Beckham. Jeremiah’s jaw tenses. All of this is so unlike him, and I can’t resist the urge to throw another tack-strip down in the road. “I’m going to Vermont with him next week for a few days. It’s a work trip.”

His eyes shut, and his tongue drags forcefully across the inside of his mouth.

“Babe, this was all my fault. All of it.” He looks at me again, his hands sliding up my hips and resting at the curve of my waist. “I sent you running into the arms of another man. I left you all alone. I blame no one but myself.”

“You’re particularly gallant today.” I trace the buttons of his shirt and offer a smile to lighten the mood. The unsettled pit in my stomach is difficult to ignore. This isn’t like him. At all.

The Jeremiah standing before me is an imposter.

“Shouldn’t you be throwing chairs and shouting?” I tease. Kind of. Back in college, he suspected me of giving my number to another guy at a party once. I’d never seen a real life Hulk until that night. Needless to say we were permanently banned from the Kappa Theta Phi house due to his destructive outburst.

He shakes his head, his fingers digging into my hips. “From now on, I’m going to be the man you deserve. The man who makes the others pale in comparison.”

He might have that one nailed already. Literally.

“I want us back,” he continues, his eyes closing. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Just tell me I haven’t lost you, Sam.”

Chapter Twenty-One

BECKHAM

“One sixty-two Clinton Street. Apartment four.” I verify Eva’s address to the nanny agency first thing Saturday morning. “They’re discharging tomorrow. You’ll send someone as soon as I call, correct?”

The agency director confirms my request, promises she’ll send her best available nanny, guarantees full discretion and privacy, and promises to email me the paperwork the second we hang up.

“Perfect. Thank you.” I end the call and toss my phone on the foot of my unmade bed, holding my head in my hands. My fingertips trace across my brows, pushing hard, and slide toward my pulsing temples to relieve the headache that’s going on day two.

With scattered thoughts, I hit the shower, cranking the water as hot as I can stand it. My phone rings a minute after I step out. With a towel snug around my waist, I grab the phone off the bed.

“Beckham King.”

“Mr. King, this is Anita. I’m a nurse at New York General.” Her words make my heart stop cold. “Everything’s okay, but Ms. Delgado is refusing to cooperate with staff until you sign the birth certificate, and also the baby can’t leave the hospital without a name. It’s hospital policy.”

I know Eva, and she’s not going to leave the hospital without that baby. She’ll have to name her eventually.

“Ms. Delgado is well aware of my stipulations. It’s not going to happen. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

My thumb hovers over the ‘end call’ button until I hear her say, “Wait.”

“Yes?”

She sighs into the phone. I can only imagine the unflattering thoughts running through her head. Perhaps she assumes I’m some deadbeat father. An irresponsible philanderer. A loser.

“Will someone be picking her up tomorrow? She discharges at eleven, and because of the C-section she can’t leave without another adult present to assist her.” Her once cordial tone has become unmistakably flat.

“I’m sending a nanny and a cab. I’ll call later with her name, so you can put it in Ms. Delgado’s file. She and the baby will have around the clock care for the next thirty days.”

Primarily to ensure the safety of the baby who may or may not be mine…

I should feel bad about leaving them with a difficult patient, one childishly refusing to name her own baby, but Eva is a grown woman. I won’t be strong-armed into Eva’s manipulative tactic.

“Anita?” I say. “Please remind Ms. Delgado that she is not allowed to contact me again, per the terms of the restraining order.”

Anita is silent.

“Let her know that the nanny I’ve hired will contact me if there is an emergency concerning the baby,” I add. “I’m willing to communicate directly with Eva if – and only if – she will agree to immediate paternity testing.”